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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272109">Release &amp; Catch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberneticnightmare/pseuds/cyberneticnightmare'>cyberneticnightmare</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Degradation, Dehumanization, Dubious Consent, F/M, Human Experimentation, Hypnotism, Light Sadism, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Orgasm Denial, Restraints, dark themes, there's some mild Stobotnik if you squint., usage of 'it' as a pronoun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:29:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberneticnightmare/pseuds/cyberneticnightmare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Curiosity doesn't necessarily kill you, but a mad genius just might after his Agent - during a brief lapse of judgement - attempts to help you escape.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik &amp; Agent Stone, Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Release &amp; Catch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A commission done by yours truly, and also the first piece to grace this side-acc.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bright fluorescent lights overhead do little to help ease the pounding migraine that ravages your temples, the back of your eyeballs flashing brighter than the memory of the equipment that forced you into this prone state to begin with. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and get away from it, to force yourself into blissful unconsciousness with the cold titanium bars around you serving as comfort against too-hot, bruised skin.</p>
<p>The baseline hum and whir of machinery that radiate through the laboratory’s floor is lulling, almost soothing in the aftermath of unbearable loudness. But it is not enough to make you forget the pain. There is not an inch of you that does not hurt despite the physical absence of evidence; invisible traces of inhumane experimentation. Your fingers trace the exception: a lesion just above your left clavicle. </p>
<p>Pressing down on it, you can feel the impossibly small lump just below your skin. You recall him rambling just out of earshot, the stream of technobabble too complex to comprehend but the words ‘nanotech’ and ‘ingrained circuitry’ lingering at the forefront of your thoughts. Did he really plant a chip in you like some dog? Is it more than just an average tracking device? You assume so. The mad genius is efficient with his tech.</p>
<p>The sigh that rattles out of you is almost enough to mask another sound, one that is subtle and would have perhaps gone unnoticed were it not for your proximity to the floor. You hold your breath and listen to the soft click of shoes against metal paneling and you involuntarily curl into yourself, knees to your chest and arms tightly around them, expecting the worst. But part of you begs to ease your pose because those are not the footsteps of your tormentor. Those are not the sharp, heavy footfalls of a man on a mission to wrest control from the world.</p>
<p>You startle at the sight of black fabric coming into view and you try to scuttle into the furthest corner of your cage—your kennel, the doctor had called it.</p>
<p>‘Do you know what you do with an unruly runt, Stone? You throw it in the kennel until it realizes it isn’t wise to bite the hand that feeds.’</p>
<p>The same man who locked you up however many hours ago now kneels before the metal gate, a pinched look of concentration on his eyebrows as he fiddles with the lock with an eerie amount of silence. You eye him wearily as he punches in a code then stifles the beep with his sleeve.</p>
<p>“Agent—” He shushes you, a finger over his mouth in wordless warning.</p>
<p>Agent Stone rummages through a small messenger bag you had not noticed slung over his shoulder, and from inside it he pulls out a set of generic looking clothing. They are not the same you wore when you first arrived, but anything is better than the literal rags that currently cover very little of you. </p>
<p>Opening the gate and setting the clothes down, he takes a step back with his hands up.</p>
<p>Confused, you stare at him only for a moment before reaching for the pile, hurriedly slipping into the shirt and pants. No shoes. You wonder if this is some sort of cruel joke, crueler than having you be degraded to a mere experiment. The agent is but an extension to the doctor, after all. His shadowy counterpart that merely obeys and defends with lethal accuracy. You expected to be at the end of his gun at some point during your prolonged and unplanned stay, not his helping hand. One does not look a gift horse in the mouth.</p>
<p>By the time you crawl out of the kennel, Agent Stone has moved to the only doorway in the temperature-controlled storage area. He gestures for you to hurry and you do so quietly as he leads you through a complex system of corridors you have only seen once, its white walls clinical and imposing even with the absence of drones surveying the area. You wonder where they are when his hand on your chest stops you. He holds up a finger, then points it towards the exit doors.</p>
<p>You are both halfway across the massive room when you realize the reason for your shared stealth. At the center of the lab’s central control room is Dr. Robotnik, slumped over his console and snoring away with his head resting on a pristine white drone. He shifts in his sleep, cup of coffee nearly knocked over by his elbow as he does so. Above his head are holographic blueprints, softly beeping in the otherwise still air in the room.</p>
<p>A part of you wants to approach him. Perhaps it is the silhouette he paints, with his black coat spilling over his chair. There is a type of allure that can only belong to a man as powerful as he, and you briefly spare a thought to those who follow him blindly. Like Agent Stone, for example, who grabs you by the elbow and sharply tugs you towards the doors with a firm shake of his head.</p>
<p>You shake yourself free of the intrigue, perplexed by the sudden draw as you reroute your thoughts towards the urgency at hand.</p>
<p>Rather than use the biometric scanner on the door, Stone reaches behind it with deft fingers. Seconds tick by at a slow crawl as he works to override the contraption, and you catch yourself looking over your shoulder towards the sleeping doctor in hopes he does not wake up. Or, some twisted part of you whispers, hoping he does. There is little out of the realm of possibility he could do to punish you, punish you <i>both</i>, and a sliver of comfort settle heavy on your shoulders. If you get caught, you both will pay the price. You have no doubt Stone will get off significantly easier, but if he is taking the time to break you free, odds are he will take full responsibility for the actions committed.</p>
<p>Stone manages the door open, setting the deactivated scanner aside to likely slot back into place once the deed is done. With another wordless gesture, you slip outside.</p>
<p>The sun has set but blue still threads through sparse trees, the canopy too thick to reveal a rapidly darkening sky. You are certain you would not have been able to handle full-on sunlight, as even the soft glow leaves the back of your eyeballs slightly stinging. The surrounding area is not necessarily a forest, but it is certainly remote and not at all the same building you had driven to however long ago. A whole new wave of uncertainty manifests in your chest when Stone pulls you towards the tree line once he has securely shut the door behind him.</p>
<p>“This is all I can do for you,” he says. Finger hooking under the knot of his tie, he loosens it enough to be a tell-tale sign of what you perceive to be uncertainty. “City limits are about eight kilometers from here and should take you about two hours to get there if you double-time. Just keep heading west.”</p>
<p>You nod. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Don’t. He’ll likely come after you and he won’t stop until you’re back on that slab.” Stone exhales slowly through his nose, flicking his attention all around him with eagle-eye precision. “I may just have signed our death warrants.”</p>
<p>Before he can turn back towards the lab, you grab him by the sleeve. “Then, why?”</p>
<p>Stone settles you with an intense look, one that is borderline eerie on his otherwise stoic features. “I sometimes like to pretend I have a conscience.”</p>
<p>Your hand drops away at that, and you watch his back as he jogs towards the laboratory entrance. He does not spare you another glance as he slips back inside.</p>
<p>The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as dread drags icy fingers down your spine. Light might still be lingering, but it will not be long before night truly falls. It is just you against the elements, and all you have is the clothes on your back. No supplies, not even a gun.</p>
<p>It dawns on you, right then and there, that Agent Stone has no hopes of you making it to the city. His intention is not to nudge you towards safety, but to grant you a swifter, more merciful death. Out in the wilderness, you will at least have a chance to fight for your survival. </p>
<p>Honestly, the idea of torture under the doctor’s impossibly advanced technology is a much more attractive one than being mauled by a bear.</p>
<p>“Bastards,” you say, heading deeper into the forest once you have got your bearings.</p>
<p>You make certain to keep the tree line in sight, accepting you have no navigational or survival skills whatsoever. If you remain hidden enough, you are certain you will reach some sort of checkpoint—a ranger station, the highway, anything that can help speed up your journey home. However far away that may be.</p>
<p>When night arrives, it is your brisk pace that keeps you warm. The adrenaline keeps attention away from your aching feet, bruised and likely bloody as you hurriedly make your way through the forest’s edge, but you nearly sob when coming to terms with the fact that there is no edge. You can hardly see two meters in front of you, let alone tell which way is left or right. You really are as good as dead—in more ways than one.</p>
<p>You freeze mid-step when something moves across your line of sight.</p>
<p>Not a shadow but a reflection, a hint of light catching just off to your left.</p>
<p>Straining to listen is of no use. Aside from the natural ambiance of a woodland area, there is no indication of a predator stalking you. No big cats, no bears, nothing. What does lurk, however, and you catch it just by pure chance, is a familiar white blot threading in and out of the trees.</p>
<p>You duck before going prone altogether, heart pounding painfully against your ribcage as you look up at the egg-shape drones hovering in your immediate area.</p>
<p>The jig is up. The doctor knows. You are lost with nowhere to go, and maybe your earlier thought about preferring to die under the guise of science rather than mauled by an animal may have been wrong.</p>
<p>You try to hide but your attempts are fruitless, the incessant scanning closing in on all sides and forcing you tighter against the foot of a tree. You scramble for anything that might grant you even the slightest opening: a rock, or even a stick to down the nearest drone and force them to regroup while you run somewhere, anywhere, far from here.</p>
<p>Army-crawling across the forest floor only buys you a couple of minutes before a loud beeping finally confirms your fears: you have been located, but you have not yet been incapacitated. Jumping to your feet, you throw a rock hard enough to send the nearest drone spiraling, the machine knocking into one of its siblings and causing a chain reaction of sparks and distressed noises. You do not stay and watch, launching yourself into a sprint through the narrow trees, narrowly avoiding low hanging branches, heart thundering high in your chest.</p>
<p>Not long after, another sound, this one far louder, and you know it is game over.</p>
<p>You catch sight of it out of the corner of your eye, effortlessly keeping pace with you just past the tree line. The sleek white exterior of the craft reflects the shine of the waning moon, its red lights glimmering through the dense brush as it hones in on you.</p>
<p>Caught, cornered, like a wounded animal who never stood a chance.</p>
<p>You push your legs to carry you faster, past some nonexistent threshold towards safety—but all you get is the faint sensation of a mosquito bite on the back of your neck before the world slows to a crawl. The forest warps, your knees waver, and you fall. You fall through the underbrush, through the beating underground, and then continue until hands hoist you up and the world makes no sense.</p>
<p>Two red eyes—a snake—a person, if one could even call him that.</p>
<p>“<i>There</i> you are, you spry little miscreant. Think you can run away, huh?” A loud inhale, and the world is now moving like dark ripples over turbulent waters. “Whatever little mind games you’re playing with my agent comes at a high cost. And I think, in my very humble opinion—” the world shifts again and you are moving, drifting in an in-between, below and above the surface at once, even as you vaguely register the impact to your back, “that I hold all the cards, now. But don’t worry. He’ll get off easy. He always does. It’s what happens when I get all chummy-chummy, which hardly ever happens but—<i>oh!</i> That Agent Stone, he knows which buttons to push.” The doctor hums salaciously before easing into a laugh. “As for you…”</p>
<p>The humming of an engine becomes near deafening, engulfing each of your senses and then some as you lay awkwardly against something you cannot make out through your haze. Limbs paralyzed, you can still hear, more or less see, but both are useless as globs of red and black dance in your field of view. Something cold clasps around your wrist and you wish to fight it but wishing is all you can do.</p>
<p>Weeks ago, you willingly walked into Dr. Robotnik’s lab. Tonight, you get dragged back like some animal—nameless, poached for parts in the name of unethical science. The allure had been too great, your curiosity leading you right to your own downfall. You try to speak but your tongue cannot move. <i>You won’t get away with this you crazy bastard,</i> the words run laps in your muddy mind.</p>
<p>A pinch to your neck seizes all movement, and everything finally goes a peaceful black.</p>
<p>The dreamless sleep is abruptly cut short by a burning birthing in your chest and crackling outward, across your torso and down your limbs, out of fingertips and toes. You jolt along with the electricity, instinct driving you to struggle but you are bound, wrists and ankles, splayed over a slab of cold metal that burns equally as much against your back. The grogginess ebbs and flows forcing you into a migraine by the blinding lights overhead.</p>
<p>Back here again.</p>
<p>This time, you refuse to lay back and take it.</p>
<p>It is wrong, twisted; of this much you have been made aware of when the agent helped you escape. Or did he? Were his intentions ever genuine, or were they selfish? Was it some type of game they played? You have heard Robotnik call Stone a ‘glutton for punishment’. If so, not only are you a lab rat, but you are a mouse trapped in a cage with two predators intending on ripping you apart under the guise of technological advancement.</p>
<p>The room you are is unfamiliar, blindingly white, with only a small smattering of red accents scattered about. There are drones mounted along the walls, powered down, but you know it will take very little to wake them. Each drone its own army with an endless arsenal. </p>
<p>One of the walls unaccompanied by the funny-looking death machines is covered in a myriad of tools you have never seen before, and the other is an uninterrupted array of holographic screens. Displayed on them are images of you, assessments, vital signs, blueprints, multiple checklists, and what looks like a recipe in a language you cannot read.</p>
<p>Carefully, as to not trigger any sort of alarm, you try to fit your hand through the metal restraint. No dice. You try your feet, but it is as useless as you had dreaded. Besides, escape means you will have to brave the forest all over again. Dr. Robotnik will find you. He will always find you and bring you back here.</p>
<p>Hours pass and you remain, occasionally trying to free yourself without much thought as you watch the screens in a daze. In the upper right hand corner you spot a tiny red light and you know you are being recorded, either that or you are on a live feed, streamed by either the doctor or his agent, constantly monitored. You fruitlessly renew your efforts against the restraints.</p>
<p>“The more you struggle the tighter those get,” Robotnik’s voice floods the room through invisible speakers. “Unless you want them crushed, I suggest you cut it out. Lay back! Put your feet up! <i>Relax.</i> It’ll all be over soon.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” you shoot back, putting as much venom as possible into the words but falling short, throat too dry to convey any force.</p>
<p>“That’s not very nice,” he says. Another burst of low-frequency waves singes through your body and you realize it is the same sensation that woke you up. It hardly registers as pain, but the discomfort is breathtakingly unsettling. “But thanks for the idea.”</p>
<p>There is an audible click to signal the end of the transmission.</p>
<p>Unthinkingly, you yank your arm back only to have the restraint clamp down on your wrist. Fear bursts along your nerve endings like fireworks, a cold rush overriding any survival instinct as you begin to try and free yourself in earnest. Each twist brings pain, the near crushing of bone not registering as your brain switches into flight mode.</p>
<p>It takes all of five seconds for you to recognize the sensation of fingers carding through your hair, a soothing shush hauling you back to your senses. You force your eyes to focus on Agent Stone standing over you, a brilliant smile on his handsome face as he shakes his head at you. His hand comes to rest on your bare shoulder. “A word of advice: it really will hurt more if you struggle.”</p>
<p>With a sob lodged in your throat you want to ask what he means, but a second figure comes into view and your blood runs cold.</p>
<p>“Stone, prepare the decompression sequence. I want it awake while I work.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Doctor.”</p>
<p>You do not know what that means, and you do not want to know. The restraints slacken to their original state, blood rushing back to your hands and feet and making them tingle, so you try to wriggle yourself free in one last ditch attempt. A panic response makes you freeze up when Robotnik leans forward on the slab of metal you are on, hands braced against the edge as he squints at the monitors, muttering to himself.</p>
<p>Without looking down, he jabs a gloved finger against the soft tissue above your clavicle, pressing in deep enough that you try to squirm away. It hurts like hell but saying so will only bring more pain. Robotnik continues to press and rub, sighs out a little “ah!” when he finds what he is looking for. “Fascinating. Test K2-04 of the Insertion Program has fused with the host but it’s yet to fully assimilate itself into its organic tissue. Should have done so, oh, say, four hours, forty-two minutes, and eight seconds ago.” He scoffs, finally looking down at you with a vicious sneer. “The last thing I needed was a defective bag of meat and water. Stone!”</p>
<p>“Doctor.” Agent Stone materializes behind the man within a second, hands clasp in front of him and awaiting orders.</p>
<p>“My extraction kit.”</p>
<p>“Is something wrong with…” he hesitates only for a moment, briefly glancing at you before turning back to Robotnik, “the specimen?”</p>
<p>“You mean aside from it being utterly useless? Chop-chop, I don’t have all day.”</p>
<p>Stone scurries off and Robotnik whisks towards his console with a flourish, humming lively to himself as he scans through schematics and pulls up a new assortment of screens to scrutinize.</p>
<p>There is a three-dimensional map of you on display, and the intermittent lines dotted along your torso and arms rearrange every couple of seconds along with a new percentage. It never shows above 36%. You are not entirely certain, but you have a pretty good idea as to what that must mean.</p>
<p>“Please,” the word is broken, shaky. You had not realized how thirsty you were until now. “Don’t do this. I’ll—I’ll do anything you want. Anything, I swear!”</p>
<p>Either Robotnik does not hear you, or he simply does not care. His attention sharply flicking to Stone at the barely audible sound of his shoes alone confirms the latter. The only response you get are two new restraints, automatically deploying and pinning you down by the forehead and waist.</p>
<p>An assortment of tools is laid out on a side table before Robotnik changes his gloves to disposable ones, snapping them against his wrist with an excited wiggle of his long fingers. “Biological incompatibility always has to go and make my job harder, doesn’t it? ‘No, Dr. Robotnik, we want something discreet, something stupid’. One of these days,” he says, grabbing what looks to be a drill and revving it with a thoughtful arch of his eyebrows, “I’ll blow them all up and call it a day.”</p>
<p>He approaches you, menacingly holding up the machine as he considers it with a dreamy smile before tapping the laser bit to your skin and pausing altogether. “Scared?” he says, and you frantically nod your head. “Good.” Robotnik withdraws to take notes.</p>
<p>You beg to be released, for mercy, and it all falls on deaf ears as he continues to shuffle about, capturing internal images and talking himself through dozens of plausible outcomes you cannot begin to make sense of. You try and catch Agent Stone’s attention, but all you get is a cool stare accompanied by an eerily blank smile.</p>
<p>“And <i>there’s</i> the little piggy that just won’t quit,” Robotnik suddenly says, opening a small holoscreen above the watch-like device on his wrist. “Now, would you look at that. My teeny-tiny baby <i>is</i> doing her job. Of course, she is. Care to enlighten me as to why, Stone?”</p>
<p>“Because you designed her yourself, Doctor.”</p>
<p>“Because I,” Robotnik looks down at you, “designed her myself. And I’m never wrong. My machines never fail me because they are perfect, unlike you.” He chuckles, leaning down enough to get in your face. “Seems like you lucked out, you colossal waste of space. I’ll keep you around long enough to see my creation flourish, but here’s a little reminder.” The restraints tighten unbearably. “You no longer exist. The person you once were is gone, vanished—poof! Finito. You’re not even a person anymore, but I <i>will</i> tell you what you are.” </p>
<p>A beep pulls him away and you can do nothing but quietly sob, too scared to even try to free yourself as you can barely feel your extremities once again. You lay perfectly still, under the uncaring lights and cameras of the lab, wondering if maybe, just maybe, it will be less bad if you cooperate.</p>
<p>“Where was I… ah, yes, monologuing about your place in the world.” Robotnik clears his throat. “You are mine to do with as I please. So simple even a Neanderthal can get it through its thick skull. Very, extremely simple. Almost as simple as this entire procedure had you <i>not tried to make a run for it</i>,” he says viciously, grabbing you by the jaw and squeezing hard enough to smart. He lets go just as abruptly, turning to Stone with a sneer.</p>
<p>“Maybe you have a conscience,” Robotnik tells him, threading two fingers around the knot of the agent’s tie and hauling him up until he is standing on the tips of his shoes. “Let this simmer on it: that little stint delayed the assimilation process the environment I was keeping it in was designed to accelerate. <i>This</i>,” he snaps, pointing at you, “is your fault, Agent Stone.”</p>
<p>The agent nods to the best of his ability. “I take full responsibility, sir.”</p>
<p>Robotnik lets him go, shoving him back before turning to you. “I’d give it a choice, but I’ve rhapsodized enough. Stone, hook it up to the IR Ultra.”</p>
<p>Agent Stone approaches you, lifting a rod attached to the slab holding up your head. You watch as it spreads into two, spins, expands over your face before opening a screen that nearly blinds you before diming to comfortable levels. You squint against the static, a set of numbers pulsing warmly, and you cannot help but read them in your head.</p>
<p>“Integration of the nanochip is driven by the host’s metabolism and epinephrine production, the human equivalent of oiling a machine. The faster the blood pumps, the more receptive muscle tissue becomes, allowing for the code the melt through and stitch itself into DNA strands.” Robotnik combs his mustache. “I trust you know what two emotions elicit the best response for this type of thing.”</p>
<p>You do not know if the comment is directed at you, but the pleasantly heavy feeling in your limbs only makes you smile. <i>You’re safe,</i> the screen says, and you believe it. There is no trace of pain, only numbers, and the good doctor’s soothing timbre as it washes over you.</p>
<p>“Fear,” Agent Stone answers without missing a beat, “and arousal.”</p>
<p>“Fear and arousal,” Robotnik repeats, appraising his tools. “We’re going to have to improvise here considering this place is ill equipped for any sort of erotic stimulation.”</p>
<p>Stone shifts his weight from one foot to the other, wearily. “I’m sure inspiration will come, Doctor.”</p>
<p>The exchange is muddy in your senses, feeling the words rather than hearing them as you are pushed under a thin gauze that is not quite sleep, but rather something akin to dreaming while awake.</p>
<p>Your body seizes up when soft vibrations press against your groin, a gasp ripping out of you unbidden at the unexpected sensation. You squirm only briefly before it powers down, lulling you into a sense of calm before starting up again, making you moan with plenty of confusion.</p>
<p>This is much more acceptable than pain, you consider. Far easier to handle, to take, and the forefront of your mind tells you that you are correct. <i>Just succumb, this isn’t so bad. Count down from five-hundred and then start over, repeat after me.</i></p>
<p>Robotnik stands at the foot of the table, manually pushing the flat end of the drill handle against your core, applying uneven pressure as he grins manically at the screen, your vitals and the chemicals in your brain spiking beyond 60%.</p>
<p>“Even worthless <i>things</i> can serve some sort of purpose with the proper stimuli,” Robotnik says, licking his lips. “Only a matter of time before I deem it a success, and then we can do it all over again,” he sing-songs. “And this time I’m sure it’ll think twice before biting the hand that feeds.” Robotnik savagely pushes the tool harder against you, your back arching from the conflicted pleasure the vibrations spark.</p>
<p>Heat builds pleasantly in your gut, crawling up your thighs and you can almost reach completion—but Robotnik pulls the machine away, leaving you to shudder and hiccup at the sudden absence. Still, you can do this. You can stay, and stay quietly, obediently, like something lesser than a pet. You can be lesser than the speck of lint on the doctor’s coat, lesser than a spackle of mud underneath his shoes.</p>
<p>Yes. You can be that. You will not run. There is no need to.</p>
<p>Even when your body trembles and shakes from denied orgasm, the warm numbers will keep you company. It does not matter that your body begs you to run and not look back, to take your chances out in the wilderness. Even as the high of whatever lulling technology you were just submitted to trickles away, and the fear sets back in, staying is good because not struggling equates to less pain.</p>
<p>In this lab, you are not human. You are worth nothing. Simply a vessel, a specimen, another tool in Dr. Robotnik’s endless arsenal of far more advanced machines. </p>
<p>“You fit right in with my boots and reject bolts that need melting. You are <i>nothing</i>,” he says, nearly whispers with delight. “Fortunately for you, even waste can be repurposed.”</p>
<p>The screen is peeled back, and you are left staring up at the white ceiling, eyes watery and unfocused. There is not an inch of you that does not tremble, cold and withdrawing from the rush of chemicals unfinished. The restraints are the last things to be removed.</p>
<p>You are free.</p>
<p>Dr. Robotnik is back at his console, talking to the lab with grand gestures and pleased pats to his own back at a job well-done. You could run. Instead, you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the table, hop down and stretch and stand perfectly still, awaiting orders.</p>
<p>“Lock it back up, Stone. We’re done here. <i>For now</i>.”</p>
<p>Agent Stone is beside you when you begin to walk, legs shaky but sturdy enough to keep you upright.</p>
<p>Out of the lab and down a hall you do not recognize but navigate as if by memory. Your thoughts are peacefully blank, gut heavy, skin wet with perspiration and other fluids. But it is okay. Thoughts are not necessary for something like you.</p>
<p>The agent ushers you in through a door and you stretch as he opens the gate to your cage. You thank him as you crawl in, its cold bars bliss against your overly hot skin.</p>
<p>He closes it, inputs a code and stares at you only for a moment before he leaves, turning off the lights without bidding you goodbye.</p>
<p>You are unsure whether deeming yourself alive is a proper assessment of your state of existence, but regardless, you curl up against a far corner of your cage and shut your eyes.</p>
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